I'm working on my use of "y'all" as I accept the invitation to return to the Austin area as a judge at the Texas International Wine Competition in February! Airline tickets are purchased and details are coming together. Now to tweak for weeks over what to pack.
I'm excited to return to this competition, it is small (about 40 judges), but well run and they treat the judges like royalty. Small, doesn't mean unimpressive by-the-way, this is 3 days of tasting and rating some of the top wines from around the world. Another one of my favorite things about this comeptition is that they are set-up to donate proceeds to The Whole Planet Foundation: their mission is to empower the poorest people in the world with a micro-credit to set up a home based business to support their families. Many of these people are women that receive a small loan, I'm talking $100 or less, and buy a sewing machine or similar tool. They learn how to create some kind of commodity by sewing items or crafting something and selling these items. The stories are incredible and heartwarming and I love being a part of a competition that thinks about how to help the world become a better place.
What I love most about this competition is the people. This competition, crafted by an expert wine judge, has gathered some of the best professionals from around the world including a Count who was the 20th person in the world to receive the prestigious Master of Wine title...ever, as in he's a big deal. He has been living and teaching in Bordeaux for most of his life, but flies to Buda, Texas for this competition. There is also the editor-in-chief of Sommelier Magazine from the Czech Republic who became my 'Wine Godfather' last January when we met at this same competition and he deemed me worthy of his great kindness, generosity and professional sway with some of the best competitions in the world. And then there is a surgeon and wine educator who is responsible for the non-profit charity Intervol that collects unused medical supplies and sends them to countries in dire need via 'Raise a Glass Foundation' which is affiliated with The Great American International Wine Competition in NY that I also have had the honor of judging at. These are only three incredible people out of a room full of greats that I now proudly call my friends.
To fully appreciate just how cool this little competition is, imagine you are half way around the world and bump into one of your favorite people you met at the Texas International! In the mysterious hills of a small town in the Czech Republic at a small International Wine Competition called Vinnex (thank you Wine Godfather!), I found myself hugging one of my favorite judges. Talk about random right? In the wine judging world, not so much. My 1st year judging at Great American International, I was fresh and new and in a sea of unfamiliar faces at that very large competition. I met some lovely people and enjoyed my experience very much, but it wasn't until this past year when I made connections at Texas, that my experience at Great American really wowed, they seem to build on each other. In a beautiful stroke of luck, I was invited into the inner circle of wine judges and part of a private tasting at the Doctor's room. He brought some of his special wines he has collected in his private cellar to share with a small group including the Count. You might be picturing a stodgy group of wine geeks all trying to impress each other and be snooty about what the greatest wines of the world are, but I assure you, this is a group of exceptional people that are appreciative of what each of us bring to the table, LOVE wine and want to share that love, appreciate the hard work winemakers have put into their product and a group of hilariously funny people! The Doctor and the Count have a rapport after many years of friendship, that is so entertaining that it makes you want to pull up a chair and just watch them interact. The Doctor has a delightful Irish accent and sharp wit mixed with a youthful carriage that makes his age difficult to determine, The Count has an English accent and is a dapper, wisecracking older man with white hair and beard that looks very distinguished. Between them they have a heavy arsenal of wine knowledge and experience, but it is the jolly sing song of the dueling accents as they verbally jab at each other that is so fabulous. Needless to say, I was excited to spend an evening with them.
Now, most hardcore wine geeks have had a wine MOMENT, a special A-Ha experience where tasting a particular wine was so thrilling an experience that that became the beginning of the end for losing themselves to the world of wine. Remember that scene in the movie 'Sideways' where Miles has just met Maya and they chat in the Kitchen asking each other what their moment was? They then name wines and ooh and ahh over each others answers. Well, my wine I had that night with the Doctor and the Count sitting along side a handful of other lucky judges. Having been in the wine biz now for 17+ years, you would have expected that I would have already had that experience, and while I did have exciting moments of tasting spectacular wines, tasted wines that inspired me or meant a great deal to me, nothing compared to my MOMENT in NY. Clearly my love of wine runs deep, after all I didn't need an a-ha experience to dedicate my entire adult life to the industry.
Back to NY; a small group of us circled around the Doctor (the TX competition organizer was one of them) as he opened the 6 magnificent wines he'd set out. The Count and his stunningly elegant wife, sat stretched out on the bed, fittingly like the King and Queen of the room. It was somewhat like the excitement a child has waiting to be handed that first gift Christmas morning, the room was quiet, full of anticipation. Of the epic wines we tasted, each more amazing than the last, was a 1978 Saint-Julian (my birth year), a 1986 Margaux and a 1964 Spanna from Italy. I was in heaven, these wines showed why they are revered, still stunningly brilliant after decades. But it was the 1964 Spanna that was my MOMENT, the wine was still so epically beautiful! "Epically" is that a word? See? The wine was so amazing, the only way to describe it is to make up words! Seriously though, after 55 years, this wine managed to have intense character, layered complexity, depth, perfect elegance and delicate aromas. I was so struck by the capability of a winemaker to create a wine that could last this long and stand up so exquisitely that it blew my mind and seized my heart in a fist's grip. I sat, in my own little world, savoring each perfect sip, while silent tears streamed down my face. I was truly overwhelmed and in awe of this wine, a treasure held in my hand that in an instant reminded me of how breathtaking the world can be. The Count's wife touched my arm and broke me from the wine's spell, I looked up surprised and she asked if I was OK, my tear stained cheeks having caused her and the Count concern. I smiled a giant, wine stained smile and said "it is the most beautiful thing I have ever encountered. I'm brought to tears over the idea that someone created this 55 yrs ago". The room full of purple teeth smiled back at me, they knew they had witnessed my A-Ha wine moment and everyone was genuinely touched to be a part of it; all friends from Texas International Wine Competition.
Once again, across the world, this time at the prestigious Berliner Wein Trophy International Wine Competition in Germany this past summer, I met a wine judge that after talking a bit said "Oh wow, you are the judge the Count was talking about! He said he had seen a wine, when tasted was so beautiful, it made a Sommelier cry!", I've since heard other stories of how the Count and the Doctor share the story of my wine moment, little old me, at wine competitions, both touched by having been witness to a moment of true awe.
And so, with great excitement to see my wine judging family, meet new judges and tour Texas wineries, I ready myself for 3 days of intense wine competition analysis and beautiful new wine memories to be made. Wish me luck y'all!
Remember, no matter where the world takes you, Wine First!
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Sunday, December 29, 2019
Thursday, December 19, 2019
Time to Celebrate!
I wanted to write about our adventure in Santa Fe, a staycation mixed with work at the International Food, Wine and Travel Writers Association (IFWTWA). I wanted to tell you about the incredible contacts we made, but everything has been obliterated by my recent MRI.
Here is where the sappy me floods the page with how meaningful life is. I can feel my teenage daughter rolling her eyes even as I type, but it is true! My struggle with a pituitary tumor (that's located in your head people. Don't worry I didn't know that in the beginning either) started a little over 4 years ago when symptoms riddled my body and sent my doctor on a wild goose chase trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Most people would panic when the news came that they had a brain tumor, and believe me there were a lot of tears, but I was also so relieved that we found the cause, that I exclaimed "Great! When can we pluck that baby out?!?". I know, a surprising reaction, you should have seen my doctor's jaw hit the floor.
Cut to (hahaha that is unfortunate language to use there) months and months of specialists and brain surgeons and the 'We need to wait till it gets bigger to ensure a successful surgery' while my symptoms were getting worse and worse and worse until I was spending more time in bed than I was on my feet, managing the pain with medical marijuana card benefits, and preparing for the worst, and then a miracle happened. My doctor urged me to go see a specialist that doesn't take my insurance and pay out of pocket, a big ask with me hardly working. I stepped into her office and she instantly got it. She consoled me as I explained the agony I was in and that the surgeons weren't moving fast enough. She understood how dire this was and she suggested we try something extremely out of the ordinary, a drug that they administer to people for a horrible fungal infection, but that has the side effect of greatly lowering cortisol levels. Cortisol is the mega beast you know of as the "stress hormone" and while we usually ignore it, this tumor had my body creating insane amounts of it...and that created all my symptoms. She explained the risks, we would need to monitor my liver and other organ functions every couple of weeks and I wouldn't be able to drink even a drop of alcohol during the 4 months we'd attempt this wacky treatment.
I'll let that sink in for a moment. I, me, the wine obsessed woman writing this. The woman who's job it is, is to drink, would not have even a sip for 4 months. I said yes before she could finish her sentence. I needed help in a bad way and this was a life line.
Within only a few weeks, I was able to better manage my pain levels. I had nausea, but wasn't constantly on the verge of vomiting (that was with my CBD/ THC tincture, without it, I was on the bathroom floor), and within a couple months, I was even getting my life back! Another unfortunate side effect of having massive levels of cortisol saturating my body for so long was that it greatly compromised all the tendons and ligaments in my body. That meant that seemingly banal actions resulted in a catastrophic ankle sprain followed by a dislocated shoulder. Side note: why do they call any level of ankle sprain a 'sprain'? Doesn't it sound like something small, insignificant? Well this should have been called a sprake, cause it would have been easier if I'd broken my ankle than 'sprained' it. 2 ligaments blown completely out, 2 tendons badly torn and the muscle up my calf that attaches to the shin pulling away...evidently that is the true site of the 'sprain' and the rest was gravy. My husband actually managed to pop my shoulder back in himself, after watching YouTube videos, while I moaned in pain, but there was damage to the tendons and ligaments as well as muscle there too. Amazingly, I didn't complain, I happily limped my way to activities and soaked in the feeling that the rest of my body was on the mend. I outline those injuries in order to give you an idea of just how intense it was to be feeling better finally. I could cry right now just writing those words, but I will try not to create a scene in the coffee shop.
So where are we at now? Well, that drug, or maybe the continued use of cannabis (they have studied the positive effects of cannabis on brain tumors), caused the tumor to spontaneously shrink! Something they never see, these tumors become inactive and they grow, but they don't shrink. As of this newest MRI, it was gone. Getting that news was truly powerful. I didn't realize how much stress and worry I had been living with, the fear it would all come back. But now, I feel like I can relax, take a deep breath and pour a giant glass of wine. I'm grateful to everyone that road along with me on that crazy journey, I hope to have this be the last of the "brain" blogs I write.
Cheers and no matter what life brings you...Wine First!
Here is where the sappy me floods the page with how meaningful life is. I can feel my teenage daughter rolling her eyes even as I type, but it is true! My struggle with a pituitary tumor (that's located in your head people. Don't worry I didn't know that in the beginning either) started a little over 4 years ago when symptoms riddled my body and sent my doctor on a wild goose chase trying to figure out what was wrong with me. Most people would panic when the news came that they had a brain tumor, and believe me there were a lot of tears, but I was also so relieved that we found the cause, that I exclaimed "Great! When can we pluck that baby out?!?". I know, a surprising reaction, you should have seen my doctor's jaw hit the floor.
Cut to (hahaha that is unfortunate language to use there) months and months of specialists and brain surgeons and the 'We need to wait till it gets bigger to ensure a successful surgery' while my symptoms were getting worse and worse and worse until I was spending more time in bed than I was on my feet, managing the pain with medical marijuana card benefits, and preparing for the worst, and then a miracle happened. My doctor urged me to go see a specialist that doesn't take my insurance and pay out of pocket, a big ask with me hardly working. I stepped into her office and she instantly got it. She consoled me as I explained the agony I was in and that the surgeons weren't moving fast enough. She understood how dire this was and she suggested we try something extremely out of the ordinary, a drug that they administer to people for a horrible fungal infection, but that has the side effect of greatly lowering cortisol levels. Cortisol is the mega beast you know of as the "stress hormone" and while we usually ignore it, this tumor had my body creating insane amounts of it...and that created all my symptoms. She explained the risks, we would need to monitor my liver and other organ functions every couple of weeks and I wouldn't be able to drink even a drop of alcohol during the 4 months we'd attempt this wacky treatment.
I'll let that sink in for a moment. I, me, the wine obsessed woman writing this. The woman who's job it is, is to drink, would not have even a sip for 4 months. I said yes before she could finish her sentence. I needed help in a bad way and this was a life line.
Within only a few weeks, I was able to better manage my pain levels. I had nausea, but wasn't constantly on the verge of vomiting (that was with my CBD/ THC tincture, without it, I was on the bathroom floor), and within a couple months, I was even getting my life back! Another unfortunate side effect of having massive levels of cortisol saturating my body for so long was that it greatly compromised all the tendons and ligaments in my body. That meant that seemingly banal actions resulted in a catastrophic ankle sprain followed by a dislocated shoulder. Side note: why do they call any level of ankle sprain a 'sprain'? Doesn't it sound like something small, insignificant? Well this should have been called a sprake, cause it would have been easier if I'd broken my ankle than 'sprained' it. 2 ligaments blown completely out, 2 tendons badly torn and the muscle up my calf that attaches to the shin pulling away...evidently that is the true site of the 'sprain' and the rest was gravy. My husband actually managed to pop my shoulder back in himself, after watching YouTube videos, while I moaned in pain, but there was damage to the tendons and ligaments as well as muscle there too. Amazingly, I didn't complain, I happily limped my way to activities and soaked in the feeling that the rest of my body was on the mend. I outline those injuries in order to give you an idea of just how intense it was to be feeling better finally. I could cry right now just writing those words, but I will try not to create a scene in the coffee shop.
So where are we at now? Well, that drug, or maybe the continued use of cannabis (they have studied the positive effects of cannabis on brain tumors), caused the tumor to spontaneously shrink! Something they never see, these tumors become inactive and they grow, but they don't shrink. As of this newest MRI, it was gone. Getting that news was truly powerful. I didn't realize how much stress and worry I had been living with, the fear it would all come back. But now, I feel like I can relax, take a deep breath and pour a giant glass of wine. I'm grateful to everyone that road along with me on that crazy journey, I hope to have this be the last of the "brain" blogs I write.
Cheers and no matter what life brings you...Wine First!
Thursday, November 21, 2019
Ouch My Liver! A Story About Visiting NYC
It has been a literal whirlwind of travel and drinking lately! Shhhhh...don't tell my doctor, but I have NOT cut back like he told me to. I really do think one glass a day is a ridiculous number for anyone much less if your entire job is to be drinking. I also wonder if more people would be drinking more on a daily basis if they could afford to. In my business it is constantly at my fingertips and often given to me for free without my asking. This is starting to sound like the ravings of an alcoholic, and I don't want you to worry, there are plenty of times I go days without drinking at all and for health reasons while on a a mediation, I didn't drink even a drop for 4 months. Anyway, what I'm trying to say here, is there was a considerable amount of drinking that accompanied me on these work trips.
It started with flying to New York City alongside my adorable husband. I'm not gonna lie, it was pretty exciting to get to have him all to myself, even if the reason was centered around work. I love NYC, always have. I have even attempted to live there a couple of times, but each time was thwarted and I ended up on another journey... one of those journeys being to help open Vivac Winery, clearly a wise decision. Each time I visit, the city shows change, this time the city has gotten more and more charming and discovering the Lower East Side was fantastic! We stayed at Hotel Indigo which I did book on Priceline (the winery may be getting a lot of press, but we are still tight on cash), I'm a total Priceline junky, I use it for all my travel needs and if you use the app, you actually get even better deals; you are welcome. This hotel was epic! The entry is not the lobby, but is still impressive with a cool, industrial, hip vibe ...and a doorman. I don't know why, but I love the idea of having a doorman. The lobby is on the 15th floor and has the most incredible view of the city, various inviting seating areas (also love clusters of seating areas. Am I weird?) and a bar. Did someone say bar? Our room wasn't quite ready so they apologized with free drink vouchers, nice move Hotel Indigo, nice move. We happily turned them in for a perfectly pink French Rose and nestled into a bistro table for two...with a view, not of the NYC skyline, but of the adorable clusters of seating areas that stretched the length of the lobby. Now I'm thinking I am weird.
Our focus was on a very important wine media presentation, but being that we love great food, every spare moment was spent eating. My clever husband, Jesse, had researched restaurants we should try to hit so we had a few targeted, and then we let happy finds fall in our laps. Being from New Mexico, we don't get a lot of Asian cuisine so that was a focus, but first thing is first, we needed a deli for a NYC sandwich! I have no idea why but my family is all about sandwiches, so much so that when Jesse and I were first dating, he asked "what is the deal with your family and sandwiches?" I was dumbstruck, I had no idea what he was talking about. Then I started to notice, every meal could be turned into a sandwich and any quick stop by the parents' house was greeted with 'can I make you a sandwich?'. Needless to say, it became a on going joke. As luck would have it, our hotel was next door to Katz Deli, you'll know it as the place in When Harry Met Sally "I'll have what she's having" scene. It was outstanding! And I'm not just saying that because I am a sandwich fiend. As a side note, anyone that knows me, knows I detest Mayo. I believe mayonnaise has a purpose in some recipes, but is not supposed to be a condiment, it is a vile and disgusting addition to smear on bread and if you are one of those sickos that dips french fries in it, we can not be friends. This rant comes into play here in a sec. I also love pickles, some of you might be disowning me with that statement, I know, they aren't everyone's cup of ...vinegar? So imagine my delight when sitting down at this crowded deli, they immediately brought us a plate of house-made pickles! I knew I had found something amazing. Next was to order, of course we got Pastrami sandwiches, we aren't stupid. Also the waiter did yell at us to order Pastrami. Then Jesse tried to order mayo on his and was just about flung out of the restaurant onto the street for it. This made my day. The sandwich was insanely delicious and I almost recreated the When Harry Met Sally scene over it. Oh, and we had a local beer, you gotta know your drinkin places and that deli is a beer place, not a wine place. I'm sorry to say I was so obsessed with the sandwich that I can't tell you the name of the beer. Oops.
Next, directly after dinner, was to hit China Town to get steamed...weird dough balls. Tasty and strange, but interesting enough to have us share four different flavors, my personal fave was the egg custard. I figured we got to eat at multiple places in a row because we walked there and lets face it, that's more exercise than my fat butt is used to these days. We got back to the hotel room walking in the dark, passing so many people out, shops open and fitness centers packed, it was strange that so late at night, the city was so lively. We climbed into bed with our nightcap poured (a lovely Italian Nebbiolo) and realized it was only 6:30pm, OMG! We are getting old and lame, but we agreed we couldn't go to bed at 6:30, that would be just ridiculous even though we had been up since 3:00am to catch our flight that morning. Instead we rallied and started to watch a movie... and then passed out...at 8:00pm, clearly we didn't have our city stamina in check.
Peking duck, $1 pizza and fabulous NYC style Italian food were all devoured with glee over the next few days. I was starting to have flashbacks to our time in Central Europe this past spring where we ate our way through 4 countries. Now you know why my butt is so big. Also, they should have a slogan over there "cake, it's what's for dinner!" and NYC's could be 'Pizza its what you eat in between meals!'. Maybe I missed my calling as a slogan writer? Los Angeles could be "Kale, we think it is a food" and Napa could be 'Wine, it is the only food group'. Sorry, I got way off topic.
Now you are all wondering how the big event went (unless you also read the Fueled by Vivac blog I write, then you already know. LOL!), it was fantastic! Our ballsy move to show 4 vintages of Cabernet not only wowed with how beautiful they held up, but made us stand apart from the other 6 wineries showcased. We enjoyed getting to taste the wines from AZ, TX and our friends from NM, it was a beautiful intimate event with some of the most influential people in the wine world. I do have to admit that the 4 courses for the wine lunch were not what I was expecting. Course 1: beets, course 2: beans, course 3: pork fat, course 4: one slice of cheese. I'm pretty sure there have been tongue-in-cheek movies made about meals like this set in NYC and Paris, they've gotten so chic, they don't feed you. I mean did you miss the 'I'm fat and like to eat' sections here? Anyway, after a day of drinking, we all needed more drinking. The group of winemakers and a couple writers hit a bar around the corner for fresh oysters (see, it wasn't just me! Everyone was like where is the food?) and some oddly chosen French wines. Evidenally, NYC is embracing "natural wines" that often are riddled with VA (volatile acid). I had the displeasure of ordering 2 back to back. Then back to the hotel for a nap, and to wash out my mouth from the molesting it had just had. Later that night, somehow our old people bodies mustered enough energy to hit The Blue Note, an iconic jazz club that is one of my favorite places in the world. And of course there, we would have more drinks. Turns out a lemoncello, cardamom, prosecco and vodka drink pairs perfectly with jazz rap.
Our last day in the city we had to ourselves. It was so delicious to have this time with Jesse. We've been married for 15yrs, together for 18 and known each other for 26. I still just can't get enough of him and the city, packed with people, restaurants crammed tight with other foodies, somehow makes for the most romantic setting. Every street corner brings a photo op, and nestled in corners of top spots gave us the ability to be in our own little two person bubble.
We returned home invigorated and deeply exhausted. We rung out our livers and prepared for round two... a food and wine travel writers convention in the nearby city of Santa Fe. Stay tuned for how we drank our way through that event!
Cheers! And remember, no matter what you do, Wine First!
It started with flying to New York City alongside my adorable husband. I'm not gonna lie, it was pretty exciting to get to have him all to myself, even if the reason was centered around work. I love NYC, always have. I have even attempted to live there a couple of times, but each time was thwarted and I ended up on another journey... one of those journeys being to help open Vivac Winery, clearly a wise decision. Each time I visit, the city shows change, this time the city has gotten more and more charming and discovering the Lower East Side was fantastic! We stayed at Hotel Indigo which I did book on Priceline (the winery may be getting a lot of press, but we are still tight on cash), I'm a total Priceline junky, I use it for all my travel needs and if you use the app, you actually get even better deals; you are welcome. This hotel was epic! The entry is not the lobby, but is still impressive with a cool, industrial, hip vibe ...and a doorman. I don't know why, but I love the idea of having a doorman. The lobby is on the 15th floor and has the most incredible view of the city, various inviting seating areas (also love clusters of seating areas. Am I weird?) and a bar. Did someone say bar? Our room wasn't quite ready so they apologized with free drink vouchers, nice move Hotel Indigo, nice move. We happily turned them in for a perfectly pink French Rose and nestled into a bistro table for two...with a view, not of the NYC skyline, but of the adorable clusters of seating areas that stretched the length of the lobby. Now I'm thinking I am weird.
Our focus was on a very important wine media presentation, but being that we love great food, every spare moment was spent eating. My clever husband, Jesse, had researched restaurants we should try to hit so we had a few targeted, and then we let happy finds fall in our laps. Being from New Mexico, we don't get a lot of Asian cuisine so that was a focus, but first thing is first, we needed a deli for a NYC sandwich! I have no idea why but my family is all about sandwiches, so much so that when Jesse and I were first dating, he asked "what is the deal with your family and sandwiches?" I was dumbstruck, I had no idea what he was talking about. Then I started to notice, every meal could be turned into a sandwich and any quick stop by the parents' house was greeted with 'can I make you a sandwich?'. Needless to say, it became a on going joke. As luck would have it, our hotel was next door to Katz Deli, you'll know it as the place in When Harry Met Sally "I'll have what she's having" scene. It was outstanding! And I'm not just saying that because I am a sandwich fiend. As a side note, anyone that knows me, knows I detest Mayo. I believe mayonnaise has a purpose in some recipes, but is not supposed to be a condiment, it is a vile and disgusting addition to smear on bread and if you are one of those sickos that dips french fries in it, we can not be friends. This rant comes into play here in a sec. I also love pickles, some of you might be disowning me with that statement, I know, they aren't everyone's cup of ...vinegar? So imagine my delight when sitting down at this crowded deli, they immediately brought us a plate of house-made pickles! I knew I had found something amazing. Next was to order, of course we got Pastrami sandwiches, we aren't stupid. Also the waiter did yell at us to order Pastrami. Then Jesse tried to order mayo on his and was just about flung out of the restaurant onto the street for it. This made my day. The sandwich was insanely delicious and I almost recreated the When Harry Met Sally scene over it. Oh, and we had a local beer, you gotta know your drinkin places and that deli is a beer place, not a wine place. I'm sorry to say I was so obsessed with the sandwich that I can't tell you the name of the beer. Oops.
Next, directly after dinner, was to hit China Town to get steamed...weird dough balls. Tasty and strange, but interesting enough to have us share four different flavors, my personal fave was the egg custard. I figured we got to eat at multiple places in a row because we walked there and lets face it, that's more exercise than my fat butt is used to these days. We got back to the hotel room walking in the dark, passing so many people out, shops open and fitness centers packed, it was strange that so late at night, the city was so lively. We climbed into bed with our nightcap poured (a lovely Italian Nebbiolo) and realized it was only 6:30pm, OMG! We are getting old and lame, but we agreed we couldn't go to bed at 6:30, that would be just ridiculous even though we had been up since 3:00am to catch our flight that morning. Instead we rallied and started to watch a movie... and then passed out...at 8:00pm, clearly we didn't have our city stamina in check.
Peking duck, $1 pizza and fabulous NYC style Italian food were all devoured with glee over the next few days. I was starting to have flashbacks to our time in Central Europe this past spring where we ate our way through 4 countries. Now you know why my butt is so big. Also, they should have a slogan over there "cake, it's what's for dinner!" and NYC's could be 'Pizza its what you eat in between meals!'. Maybe I missed my calling as a slogan writer? Los Angeles could be "Kale, we think it is a food" and Napa could be 'Wine, it is the only food group'. Sorry, I got way off topic.
Now you are all wondering how the big event went (unless you also read the Fueled by Vivac blog I write, then you already know. LOL!), it was fantastic! Our ballsy move to show 4 vintages of Cabernet not only wowed with how beautiful they held up, but made us stand apart from the other 6 wineries showcased. We enjoyed getting to taste the wines from AZ, TX and our friends from NM, it was a beautiful intimate event with some of the most influential people in the wine world. I do have to admit that the 4 courses for the wine lunch were not what I was expecting. Course 1: beets, course 2: beans, course 3: pork fat, course 4: one slice of cheese. I'm pretty sure there have been tongue-in-cheek movies made about meals like this set in NYC and Paris, they've gotten so chic, they don't feed you. I mean did you miss the 'I'm fat and like to eat' sections here? Anyway, after a day of drinking, we all needed more drinking. The group of winemakers and a couple writers hit a bar around the corner for fresh oysters (see, it wasn't just me! Everyone was like where is the food?) and some oddly chosen French wines. Evidenally, NYC is embracing "natural wines" that often are riddled with VA (volatile acid). I had the displeasure of ordering 2 back to back. Then back to the hotel for a nap, and to wash out my mouth from the molesting it had just had. Later that night, somehow our old people bodies mustered enough energy to hit The Blue Note, an iconic jazz club that is one of my favorite places in the world. And of course there, we would have more drinks. Turns out a lemoncello, cardamom, prosecco and vodka drink pairs perfectly with jazz rap.
Our last day in the city we had to ourselves. It was so delicious to have this time with Jesse. We've been married for 15yrs, together for 18 and known each other for 26. I still just can't get enough of him and the city, packed with people, restaurants crammed tight with other foodies, somehow makes for the most romantic setting. Every street corner brings a photo op, and nestled in corners of top spots gave us the ability to be in our own little two person bubble.
We returned home invigorated and deeply exhausted. We rung out our livers and prepared for round two... a food and wine travel writers convention in the nearby city of Santa Fe. Stay tuned for how we drank our way through that event!
Cheers! And remember, no matter what you do, Wine First!
Thursday, August 22, 2019
To Berlin, With Love
WHOA where did the summer go?!? So much has happened and I just left you all with me stuck in the Paris Airport. How rude of me. Let's start from there, I was headed to Berlin.
Berlin was fantastic, other than flying with Delta Airlines who managed to screw up at every step including losing our luggage and submerging it in water in some sadistic hoax? OK it was probably left out in a hurricane and not done on purpose, but the end result was literally soaking wet clothing that had started to rot so when the luggage did arrive finally it also had to be laundered repeatedly; luckily I brought my mother on this trip. You think I'm joking, but she literally did my laundry while I went to work... it was AWESOME. We also had no other choice but to go shopping. I had the Wine Competition after all and my ripped jeans and cool band t-shirt would not work (I put that in there for my husband, I HAD TO SHOP). What was working (on overdrive) was my usual stress issues. But did I lose all sense of smell and make an ass out of myself as my panic attack would have had me believe prior to the competition? Nope, I managed to scare myself to death for nothing. Again.
The 1st day we woke up in Berlin, we pulled the heavy curtains to the sides of the large window in our lovely apartment and saw, across the square, draped drown the front of the building, was the biggest rainbow Pride flag I've ever seen. Instantly we knew we were going to like Berlin, it was the perfect welcome for my daughter's 1st, fully out as her beautiful self, experience. Oh and I might mention that I had thought I was bringing a son on the trip, but had recently found out that I have a daughter when she came out to me as transgender a month previous. Now she was out to the world and Berlin had its arms wide for a giant embrace.
We walked to the cute cafe just around the corner and tried to focus our jet lagged eyes on our new surroundings. Is she seriously going to drop the bomb about her kid and then go back to talking about coffee?!? I can't focus! This was a first for all of us (myself, my parents and my transgender daughter) to be in Germany. Oh my gawd she just did it again! Just throws it out there like it's nothing! And while Central Europe and Austria had shared much of the same history, it was fascinating to behold Berlin and how uniquely different it was.
I'm not sure what I expected to see, maybe more desolation? But the huge trees that shaded you in the immense heat all over the city were gorgeous and the mix of old historical buildings and modern swirling architecture was breathtaking. Each area we explored was charming in its own way and quickly we fell into step with the laid back, easy atmosphere. She really isn't going to give us the back story is she? Throw us a bone!
The delays we suffered getting to Berlin resulted in me having no time to play tourist before I had to shuttle over to my hotel in West Berlin for the competition and say goodbye to my family who stayed in East Berlin. Ya, her transgender daughter! There are so many questions, we need details! I settled into judging, being extremely well taken care of and the family hit the sites! At breaks I'd see excited texts of their adventures and hear how much they loved the city.
The competition was extraordinary! Judges from all parts of the world, and over 6,200 wines to sample as well. It was well run and they even gave us the afternoons off to go explore on their dime! I'd jaunt off to meet up with my family and see a museum or do a city tour, then return to my hotel for the evening. It afforded me the ability to focus on work and still play. As always the worry that I am a fraud was a waste of time and a topic to bookmark for my next therapy session. Oh good she's in therapy. I wonder if her daughter is? Probably since she is. Man it's weird that she isn't talking about this. I managed to pull a couple of my parlor tricks out of the bag and identify odd grapes or pinpoint a winemaking practice by smelling a wine, blind to any details, it's an awesome occurrence when it happens and makes some of the really influential people take note. That's how I got the Berlin gig in the first place! So note to self, stop freaking out!
The time in Berlin went far too fast. It's a city you want to spend hours absorbing, exploring each spot with no hurry. It reminded me of the West Coast of the USA, a casual, relaxed glide to the happenings of each day. The LGBTQ+ community filled the streets as Pride week unfolded and the sweet smell of happiness filled every atom of my body as I saw my daughter smile in a way I've never seen before. Berlin, thank you.
* The bravery and courage, the transformation from sullen and angry into happy and delightful have been what guide us through this journey. I'm not going into details here, because it isn't necessary. This is a beautiful young person that doesn't need to be poked and prodded for entertainment. We ask that you love and support our family, if it is uncomfortable for you, then please keep it to yourself. I am fiercely protective of her, so if you do have questions, educate yourself on what it means to be trans. Here are a couple good articles:
And as always, no matter what is happening in your world, Wine First! It'll make you feel better.
Tuesday, July 23, 2019
Fly Me Away
How do I keep finding myself in scheisse situations?!? Oh right, it sucks to fly anymore and that seems to be all I'm ever doing.
This post is brought to you by the Paris airport where I have been stuck for 10 hours after previously being stuck in Salt Lake City airport for 8 hours. With jet lag.
Do you remember that song Meg Ryan sang in "French Kiss" the movie? 'I hate Paris in the Spring time, I hate Paris in the Fall...' ya, that is me right now. Sweltering in their insanely hot waiting area, with a bird circling nearby getting ready to scheisse on my head. How the hell did the bird get in here anyway? Even the bird can't fly out of this stupid airport. Want to escape the heat? Sure, go shopping at Hermes or Burberry or spend $1000 on a glass of wine at the posh bar where they best the "Russian Face" with an exaggerated frown and annoyed eye roll. I mean at least Russian Face was accompanied with a hearty chuckle and friendly exchange. Can you tell I'm sour? I probably fit in.
Denim (my kiddo) and I opt for a French Cafe that is a bit more reasonable and a hell of a lot more comfortable in order to angerly type out our gripe on our computers; my kiddo is a writer and likes to channel any experience into novels. My 1st vent is to Delta Airlines who has jacked us out of a full day of our vacation by trapping us at the Salt Lake City Airport and then at Paris. They seriously do not care about this by-the-way, just in case you were thinking I was over reacting, each of the 20,000 employees I have now pleaded with has smiled that I've-been-trained-to-make-this-face-but-don't-care look. Nothing makes me crazier than poor customer care, that is probably why I try so hard with our business to right a situation. I mean I KNOW it isn't that specific person's fault that the plane needed a part or weather made them cancel a flight, but if you look me in the eye and swear you have us taken care of, seats are booked, and then they are not, we are screwed and you are nonchalant about it, well... I can't be held responsible for my combustion.
OK, I'm taking a deep breath and getting a grip. I've managed to get a hold of my husband who is camping in the Osarks for his large family reunion and not on our trip to hell. I cried my sad song out to him, probably sounding insane, but his calm understanding soothed my nerves and he assured me that this is just about past me and we are about to start the fun. I certainly hope so. After a glass of Rose and the start of a white wine (slight aside, it is wonderful how they have lovely wines at the airport in Paris) I wonder where my parents are, our co-travelers, who we left in the heat of the waiting area, I wonder if they were too scared to join us as my red eyes flared in exhaustion and furry. I hope they haven't died in their chairs having fallen asleep, unable to seek out water, too overwhelmed to save themselves. What? They are getting older... and I can be scary. I wonder if I should go look for them. I wonder if I leave this protected nook if I will break the spell and the hell of this scheisse situation will flood back around me. Ya, better to stay put and have more wine. They are probably fine. And at least if I'm "fuzzy" feeling I can laugh when they inevitably tell me the last flight of the day to Berlin is delayed...and then cancelled.
This post is brought to you by the Paris airport where I have been stuck for 10 hours after previously being stuck in Salt Lake City airport for 8 hours. With jet lag.
Do you remember that song Meg Ryan sang in "French Kiss" the movie? 'I hate Paris in the Spring time, I hate Paris in the Fall...' ya, that is me right now. Sweltering in their insanely hot waiting area, with a bird circling nearby getting ready to scheisse on my head. How the hell did the bird get in here anyway? Even the bird can't fly out of this stupid airport. Want to escape the heat? Sure, go shopping at Hermes or Burberry or spend $1000 on a glass of wine at the posh bar where they best the "Russian Face" with an exaggerated frown and annoyed eye roll. I mean at least Russian Face was accompanied with a hearty chuckle and friendly exchange. Can you tell I'm sour? I probably fit in.
Denim (my kiddo) and I opt for a French Cafe that is a bit more reasonable and a hell of a lot more comfortable in order to angerly type out our gripe on our computers; my kiddo is a writer and likes to channel any experience into novels. My 1st vent is to Delta Airlines who has jacked us out of a full day of our vacation by trapping us at the Salt Lake City Airport and then at Paris. They seriously do not care about this by-the-way, just in case you were thinking I was over reacting, each of the 20,000 employees I have now pleaded with has smiled that I've-been-trained-to-make-this-face-but-don't-care look. Nothing makes me crazier than poor customer care, that is probably why I try so hard with our business to right a situation. I mean I KNOW it isn't that specific person's fault that the plane needed a part or weather made them cancel a flight, but if you look me in the eye and swear you have us taken care of, seats are booked, and then they are not, we are screwed and you are nonchalant about it, well... I can't be held responsible for my combustion.
OK, I'm taking a deep breath and getting a grip. I've managed to get a hold of my husband who is camping in the Osarks for his large family reunion and not on our trip to hell. I cried my sad song out to him, probably sounding insane, but his calm understanding soothed my nerves and he assured me that this is just about past me and we are about to start the fun. I certainly hope so. After a glass of Rose and the start of a white wine (slight aside, it is wonderful how they have lovely wines at the airport in Paris) I wonder where my parents are, our co-travelers, who we left in the heat of the waiting area, I wonder if they were too scared to join us as my red eyes flared in exhaustion and furry. I hope they haven't died in their chairs having fallen asleep, unable to seek out water, too overwhelmed to save themselves. What? They are getting older... and I can be scary. I wonder if I should go look for them. I wonder if I leave this protected nook if I will break the spell and the hell of this scheisse situation will flood back around me. Ya, better to stay put and have more wine. They are probably fine. And at least if I'm "fuzzy" feeling I can laugh when they inevitably tell me the last flight of the day to Berlin is delayed...and then cancelled.
Wednesday, July 3, 2019
The Tempest
I think I am depressed. My stress load has launched into atmospheric levels and there is not enough wine on the planet to bring it back down. Each morning I watch as my husband slips out of bed, heading off to work earlier and earlier to battle the huge project list he has. And I lay there, having already been up for hours thinking about all the issues at hand; fighting with the rental car company that charged us $3000 extra, remembering that I haven't staffed a big event coming up, wondering what to pack for my upcoming trip to Berlin, worrying that my kiddo may be taking on too much as he enters high school with additional college classes... I could get up and start tackling said issues, but a melancholy malaise has drifted over me. Instead I lay in the dark room and try to stretch the debilitating cramp that has setup camp in my neck and shoulder.
I finally pull myself from the covers and try to motivate, the constant ding of my phone downloading emails and texts can no longer be ignored. I slunk to the bathroom and see my reflection in the mirror, it mimics my emotions. I'm trying to grow out my hair so at this stage it stands straight up in a wild Troll Doll of my youth style, having been too lazy to remove my makeup the night before, I now have black circles under my eyes... not that the bags under my eyes would look any better had I washed it off. I'm getting older and my face shows it. My favorite sleep shirt, a thin blue and white striped baggy thing has ripped down the sleeve in the night, clearly it could not sustain the tension as I heaved my lard ass over in bed. What a bummer.
My husband has made coffee and cleaned up the kitchen before he left for work, man I love that guy. I sit on the sofa and sip my lukewarm coffee, I'm too lazy to even heat it, and start looking over work messages. There is nothing that is an emergency so I allow myself a few moments to consider working out. Maybe a run? OK too out of shape for that, but I could walk? Too hot already, but I could work on the tap routine from the tap class I haven't managed to make it to in far too long, or at least stretch, I really need to stretch. None of that happens though. Instead my phone spastically dings, rings and chimes as it tries to notify me of all the ways people are needing to get a hold of me all at once. I guess you could say I was literally saved by the bell from working out.
The day slips into evening and my teenager emerges from his room, only the 3rd time I've glimpsed him today, and he clearly doesn't want to chat. I watch him disappear back into his lair, which looks more like a library than a bedroom at this point and I think how lovely it must be to simply read books and take naps all day, I love that he gets to indulge in this kind of luxury this summer. I can't help but wish I could keep him safe in a protected parallel universe where that's all he would ever have to think about.
My husband arrives home beat from the long day and I haven't even managed to shower yet, my hair still a crazed mess and my ripped shirt still on. He seems to understand where I'm at and pours us both a glass of wine. I reluctantly put away my computer, the never ending list of projects still beckoning, and stretch my legs over his lap. He asks about my day and I give updates on all the varied projects, the hold ups and the catastrophes. Then I ask about his day, he tells me funny stories from podcasts he heard while they continued building the new winery storage room or the gossip from around town as he and the guys swapped stories while bottling a new wine. It is soothing and the wine eases my shoulders to relax.
I finally shower and throw my shirt away. My husband has fallen asleep on the sofa as the golden setting sun slips behind the mountain. I feel a deep loneliness as I let the dark waters of my emotional tempest rise. It has been a very difficult 2 years, really 4, too many horrific challenges, changes and losses to name, but sitting in the now darkened room the sinister thoughts come in.
My husband startles awake and catches me by surprise, "what's wrong?" he asks, evidently my eyes told my thoughts. 'Nothing' I reply, how do you rehash all the details of the demons scratching at the door when we are both so exhausted? Instead I curl into the crook of his arm, he knows all my struggles. He kisses my head and gives me a understanding squeeze, pulling me closer. "Would you like some more wine?" yes, he knows me well.
*this blog is brought to you by yes-I-have-a-therapist and no-I'm-not-suicidal
I finally pull myself from the covers and try to motivate, the constant ding of my phone downloading emails and texts can no longer be ignored. I slunk to the bathroom and see my reflection in the mirror, it mimics my emotions. I'm trying to grow out my hair so at this stage it stands straight up in a wild Troll Doll of my youth style, having been too lazy to remove my makeup the night before, I now have black circles under my eyes... not that the bags under my eyes would look any better had I washed it off. I'm getting older and my face shows it. My favorite sleep shirt, a thin blue and white striped baggy thing has ripped down the sleeve in the night, clearly it could not sustain the tension as I heaved my lard ass over in bed. What a bummer.
My husband has made coffee and cleaned up the kitchen before he left for work, man I love that guy. I sit on the sofa and sip my lukewarm coffee, I'm too lazy to even heat it, and start looking over work messages. There is nothing that is an emergency so I allow myself a few moments to consider working out. Maybe a run? OK too out of shape for that, but I could walk? Too hot already, but I could work on the tap routine from the tap class I haven't managed to make it to in far too long, or at least stretch, I really need to stretch. None of that happens though. Instead my phone spastically dings, rings and chimes as it tries to notify me of all the ways people are needing to get a hold of me all at once. I guess you could say I was literally saved by the bell from working out.
The day slips into evening and my teenager emerges from his room, only the 3rd time I've glimpsed him today, and he clearly doesn't want to chat. I watch him disappear back into his lair, which looks more like a library than a bedroom at this point and I think how lovely it must be to simply read books and take naps all day, I love that he gets to indulge in this kind of luxury this summer. I can't help but wish I could keep him safe in a protected parallel universe where that's all he would ever have to think about.
My husband arrives home beat from the long day and I haven't even managed to shower yet, my hair still a crazed mess and my ripped shirt still on. He seems to understand where I'm at and pours us both a glass of wine. I reluctantly put away my computer, the never ending list of projects still beckoning, and stretch my legs over his lap. He asks about my day and I give updates on all the varied projects, the hold ups and the catastrophes. Then I ask about his day, he tells me funny stories from podcasts he heard while they continued building the new winery storage room or the gossip from around town as he and the guys swapped stories while bottling a new wine. It is soothing and the wine eases my shoulders to relax.
I finally shower and throw my shirt away. My husband has fallen asleep on the sofa as the golden setting sun slips behind the mountain. I feel a deep loneliness as I let the dark waters of my emotional tempest rise. It has been a very difficult 2 years, really 4, too many horrific challenges, changes and losses to name, but sitting in the now darkened room the sinister thoughts come in.
My husband startles awake and catches me by surprise, "what's wrong?" he asks, evidently my eyes told my thoughts. 'Nothing' I reply, how do you rehash all the details of the demons scratching at the door when we are both so exhausted? Instead I curl into the crook of his arm, he knows all my struggles. He kisses my head and gives me a understanding squeeze, pulling me closer. "Would you like some more wine?" yes, he knows me well.
*this blog is brought to you by yes-I-have-a-therapist and no-I'm-not-suicidal
Friday, June 21, 2019
Who's Crazy? I'm Crazy? You're Crazy!
I woke up this morning with the taste of Gin still on my lips. Who thought it would be a good idea after a couple glasses of wine to switch to a martini? That would be my winemaker husband and Gin enthusiast. He is clearly a wild and crazy man. Needless to say, at 4:00pm today I needed a crisp, cold, dry Riesling and a break from the amount of projects we are slammed with. Our busy season has me dizzy (or is that left over from the Gin?), but each day I try to tackle the ever growing list. I'm exhausted (also a possible result from the Gin).
After a couple weeks back from Central Europe, I'm starting to get my land legs back, so to speak. Well, kinda. Two months away has lead to a pile of projects that is daunting and having the willpower to clean the house, work and lose weight just doesn't seem to be in my grasp. Instead I am sipping wine and looking at the mess while I chat with you fine people.
OK, enough chit chat, lets get down to the update! Things around here just get crazier by they day. My amazing son (age 13) has finished writing his first fiction book (previously he published "How Relative is Relativity" a guide to Quantum Physics, available on Amazon) and we are now shopping for a publisher for this horror futuristic dystopia. I too am working on a book for wine pairing with a twist, juggling article requests and now running off to Berlin at the end of July. Oh yes and I'm managing staff, events and I'm married so the crazy train has definitely left the station.
Shoving Berlin in right before crush starts in August is absolutely insane, but when you are invited to one of the best, most prestigious International Wine Competitions in the world, one that people sit on the waiting list for years to be invited to judge at... you make it happen. I am absolutely honored and so excited! Even if it does drive me straight to crazy town, it will be an amazing experience.
The scary part is I'm going back to the land of amazing cakes and "when you are thirsty, drink beer" mentality that my larger than life physique seriously can not have any of. I've got to buckle down here and make a drastic change. I must loose weight NOW. Dare I say it? Should I venture to say the most terrifying word I know? Should I start RUNNING again? (insert horror movie screams here)
Those new to this blog may not know my history, but "Fueled by Vivac" used to be my blog where I voiced my hatred for running as I trained for various races. I know I am a sick sick person. Clearly if I am even thinking of running again, I have lost my mind.
Oh look, my hand is shaking just thinking about running. I better pour more wine to calm my nerves.
Cheers and remember, no matter what you do, Wine First!
After a couple weeks back from Central Europe, I'm starting to get my land legs back, so to speak. Well, kinda. Two months away has lead to a pile of projects that is daunting and having the willpower to clean the house, work and lose weight just doesn't seem to be in my grasp. Instead I am sipping wine and looking at the mess while I chat with you fine people.
OK, enough chit chat, lets get down to the update! Things around here just get crazier by they day. My amazing son (age 13) has finished writing his first fiction book (previously he published "How Relative is Relativity" a guide to Quantum Physics, available on Amazon) and we are now shopping for a publisher for this horror futuristic dystopia. I too am working on a book for wine pairing with a twist, juggling article requests and now running off to Berlin at the end of July. Oh yes and I'm managing staff, events and I'm married so the crazy train has definitely left the station.
Shoving Berlin in right before crush starts in August is absolutely insane, but when you are invited to one of the best, most prestigious International Wine Competitions in the world, one that people sit on the waiting list for years to be invited to judge at... you make it happen. I am absolutely honored and so excited! Even if it does drive me straight to crazy town, it will be an amazing experience.
The scary part is I'm going back to the land of amazing cakes and "when you are thirsty, drink beer" mentality that my larger than life physique seriously can not have any of. I've got to buckle down here and make a drastic change. I must loose weight NOW. Dare I say it? Should I venture to say the most terrifying word I know? Should I start RUNNING again? (insert horror movie screams here)
Those new to this blog may not know my history, but "Fueled by Vivac" used to be my blog where I voiced my hatred for running as I trained for various races. I know I am a sick sick person. Clearly if I am even thinking of running again, I have lost my mind.
Oh look, my hand is shaking just thinking about running. I better pour more wine to calm my nerves.
Cheers and remember, no matter what you do, Wine First!
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